Under the Mistletoe

Riches

Ben entered a while later, his expression a mix of urgency and regret. “I’m sorry, May, but I’m needed back in the office. I can drop you off at Buttercakes Bread; I’m sure your”—he paused, searching for the right words—“friend will be starting to wonder where you are.”

A small frown formed on my face at the mention of Rachel. She was a good friend who had encouraged me to go out, but I had lingered longer than I intended. “Yes, of course. Is everything alright?” I asked softly, stepping closer to him, sensing the tension in the air.

“It will be,” he replied with a cocky grin, handing me a plastic bag. “Your dress.”

I quickly took the bag, glancing inside to see the elegant fabric I had worn the night before. A small frown crept across my face at the sight of it, a reminder of how the night had spiralled out of control. “Thank you,” I said, feeling warmth for his kindness.

As we made our way to his garage, Ben's hand rested gently on the small of my back, sending a rush of warmth through me. The heat radiating from his palm felt electric, igniting a flutter of butterflies in my stomach. I could hardly focus on the path ahead, my senses overwhelmed by his presence.

His close proximity made my heart race; I could feel the subtle brush of his body against mine with every step. The intoxicating scent of his cologne wrapped around me, a blend of fresh cedar and something uniquely him, drawing me in deeper. I stole glances at him, captivated by him, and I couldn't help but wonder if he felt the same about me. My cheeks flushed, and I could feel my pulse quickening, a mix of excitement and nervousness swirling within me.

The moment we stepped inside, I was greeted by a lineup of luxurious cars, each one gleaming under the soft overhead lights. A sleek black Aston Martin sat prominently, its curves and lines exuding sophistication. Next to it was a stunning red Ferrari, vibrant and eye-catching, a true statement of luxury.

Further down, I spotted a polished silver Porsche, its streamlined design making it look like a work of art, and beside it, a classic vintage Mustang that seemed to whisper tales of adventure. Each car was a masterpiece, reflecting not just wealth but a passion for fine engineering.

I barely kept my mouth shut, my eyes wide as I took in the sight. “Wow,” was all I could manage, my voice barely above a whisper.

Ben chuckled, clearly amused by my reaction. He led me to a sleek black Audi, and he opened the door for me. I felt a rush of warmth, my cheeks flushing as I mouthed a small thank you before ducking into the plush interior.

The inside of the Audi was immaculate, a blend of luxury and comfort. The leather seats were soft and inviting, the dashboard sleek and modern, with a high-tech interface that glowed softly in the ambient light. The scent of new leather filled the air, and I couldn’t help but admire the meticulous attention to detail—everything from the stitching on the seats to the polished wood accents.

Ben got in beside me, checking that my seatbelt was fastened before he exited the garage. As we drove in silence, I couldn’t think of anything to break the stillness. I found myself studying Ben’s profile—his jawline sharp, his brow slightly furrowed in concentration. He seemed more reserved now, almost stiff, detached. I wondered what that phone call had been about and what responsibilities pulled him back into his business life.

After what felt like an eternity, we arrived at Buttercakes Bread. Ben pulled up at the curb out front, glancing at me with a stiff smile. “Sorry, May. Here,” he said, handing me a business card.

“Call me,” he added, his tone softer now, but still firm.

I took the card gently, feeling the weight of it in my hand. I nodded, a mix of gratitude and disappointment swirling inside me. As I exited the car, I watched him carefully pull out into traffic, the sleek Audi disappearing into the flow of vehicles.

I didn’t enter Buttercakes Bread; instead, I made the small journey back to Rachel’s house. As I approached the front door, I fished the spare key from my pocket, thankful that it had survived the night in my dress. I opened the door quietly, stepping into the stillness of the house. It was clear Rachel was still asleep.

I popped the bag containing my dress into my room before making my way to the kitchen for a quick drink. As I entered, I paused slightly when I saw Rachel sitting at the counter, munching on scrambled eggs and sipping from a half-full glass of juice. She glanced up at my arrival, her brow furrowing into a frown.

“Welcome home. It’s 11 AM. You could have texted to say you were staying out. I thought you went home,” she said, her tone half-concerned, half-exasperated. But as she spoke, her frown shifted into a smirk. “Did someone have some fun with Dan?”

Her eyes gleamed with interest, maybe even a touch of hope that I had finally lost my V-card. I scoffed, shaking my head. “Dan’s a pig. I was going home, but I bumped into someone from college. I went to where they were staying to catch up and fell asleep watching a movie. Sorry I didn’t message you.”

As I spoke, I noticed the light in Rachel’s eyes dim. I should have told her the truth about Dan and Ben, but I wasn’t ready to deal with the drama that would inevitably follow. “How was Tim? Are you catching up with him again?” I quickly asked, hoping to redirect the conversation.

She laughed, shaking her head, then piled a mouthful of food into her mouth. “Hell no, girl. He’s a good talker but lacks the spark I need in the bedroom. I’ve already blocked his number, haha!”

I nodded, relieved. If he was anything like Dan, he was rotten, too. I grabbed a drink from the fridge, feeling the coolness against my hand, and then picked up the newspaper that lay on the counter, skimming through the pages. My eyes paused when I saw a listing for a financial/secretary position at a smaller company just a few minutes away—Digital Solutions. A small smile crept onto my face. Maybe this was my fresh start. I had worked hard for my degree; there was no point in wasting it at the café.

“Hey, Rachel, I’ll need a few days off. I think I might go job hunting,” I said, grinning at her as I pointed at the newspaper before retreating to my room.

Once inside, I settled at my desk and began filling out job applications. I found a couple of other companies with similar qualifications to mine, each one igniting a flicker of hope within me. It felt good to take a step toward something new, something that could pull me out of the rut I had been stuck in for far too long. As I typed, I could almost envision a future where I wasn’t just surviving but thriving, ready to embrace whatever came next.